


You're the nicest thing

by TricksterNag1to



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Character Death, F/M, Past Child Abuse, Retelling, Sad Ending, Sibling Rivalry, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricksterNag1to/pseuds/TricksterNag1to
Summary: All Mukuro Ikusaba knew was that Junko was nice.





	

All Mukuro Ikusaba knew was that Junko was nice.

 

She may have pulled her hair, tripped her down the stairs, called her fat and disgusting, and pulled up her skirt in public all in the last week, but she was her sister. That was what sisters did, right? It was the younger twin’s job to bother the older twin. So Mukuro smiled and laughed,  _ that was so funny, Junko _ , and pushed her skirt back down over her dog-paw-print boyshorts. 

 

Now that they were in Hope’s Peak together ( _ together, like always, Junko and Mukuro _ ), maybe things would change. Maybe Junko would consider being a little nicer. Mukuro knew half the time she only did it for Monaka’s amusement. 

 

Her hopes were dashed to pieces when, on the first day, Junko introduced her as “my slutty sister” and pinched her cheeks so hard Mukuro felt it hours later. She wasn’t terribly bothered, though. That was just how her sister was. She was the sister who was going to succeed in life, and she wasn’t going to do that by letting someone as incompetent and undeserving as Mukuro get ahead of her. 

 

She was a model, a brilliant tactician, a terrifyingly accurate analyst.

 

Mukuro was a grunt, a hired gun.

 

Blood meant nothing when blood was your whole life.

  
  
  


There was a boy in their class, the Super High-School Level Luck, who sat next to Mukuro. He always had a smile on his face that Junko called dopey. Mukuro thought it was kind of cute. On the first day of school he introduced himself as Makoto Naegi and shook her hand nervously but eagerly and sat down right next to her and tried to talk to her the whole day. Mukuro liked that name. It sounded sweet.

 

Junko liked that name too.

 

She told Mukuro to leave Naegi alone one night when Mukuro was brushing her sister’s hair, her dirty and bent comb gently carding through pink waves. Mukuro wished her hair did that. Instead, it was straw-straight and wouldn’t bleach to dye like Junko’s; she tried once, left the bleach in until her scalp was burned and raw and maybe a little bloody, but it was never light enough to add lasting color. Mukuro nodded and said that she wouldn’t talk to him. It wouldn’t be long before they put their plan into action and he forgot all about her, anyway. Soon, Mukuro Ikusaba would cease to exist. Some deep part of her thought it was only right.

  
  
  


The day they erased their classmates’ memories, Mukuro rounded them up with little to-do. She smiled at them all, told them her sister had planned a party and forgotten to invite everyone. They all believed her, of course - Mukuro Ikusaba would never lie to anyone, right? Awkward, shy, honest Mukuro Ikusaba. The soldier who couldn’t hurt a fly.

 

They were all wrong, though. 

 

She was going to make Junko proud. She was going to make sure every last one of them felt real despair. 

  
  


Being Junko Enoshima was hard, though. She was the opposite of Mukuro, everything she wasn’t, and Mukuro wasn’t as good an actress as her sister. But she managed. With no prior knowledge of Junko’s personality, “Junko” could be a little different. Nobody seemed to mind, though. 

 

In fact, they seemed to like “Junko”.

 

Especially Naegi.

 

He seemed to really like “Junko” when they kissed in the broom closet, adrenaline pumping through their systems after watching those horrible videos that demanded release. He seemed to like her when she nipped at his lower lip, her eyes squeezed shut to keep herself from shaking in excitement. Junko Enoshima didn’t get embarrassed or overly-excited or nervous. She was cool, collected, a force of fashion sense and snarky quips and flirty smiles. Everything Mukuro wasn’t. When she kissed at his pulse point, he gasped out her name, no, not her name,  _ Enoshima-san,  _ and it punched her right in the chest with all the force of her sister. She hid the grit of her teeth in his shoulder.

  
  


Being Junko Enoshima was hard, but being Mukuro Ikusaba was harder. In the confines of her room, her pink wig adorned a styrofoam head on her dresser, and she would lay on her bed for hours and think. Sometimes she would think about her sister. Sometimes she would think about despair.

 

Most times she would think about what it would be like to die. 

 

Junko had promised her that she wouldn’t let anyone kill her, and of course Mukuro trusted her, but what if something happened where Junko couldn’t see? There weren’t cameras in the sauna room. That would be an optimal place for a murder. 

 

She would always shake her head and laugh, put on her wig, and stand in front of the mirror.

 

_ I’m Junko Enoshima. _

 

_ Yeah, I’m Junko! What’s it to ya? _

 

Not bubbly enough.

 

_ Hey everybody, I’m Junko Enoshima! What’s up? _

 

Better.

  
  


In the gym for Monokuma’s announcement after Sayaka Maizono’s murder, Mukuro took a deep breath. It was time for her biggest part in the plan. She was going to show everybody what happened when you disobeyed the headmaster. She already had her scream prepared for when they dragged her into the dungeon below the kitchens. 

 

Mukuro caught Naegi’s eye and smiled really wide, just like how Junko would. Gave him a thumbs-up. He smiled back nervously and shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up at where Monokuma was rising up from behind the podium. 

 

Show-time.

 

Taking a deep breath, Mukuro rushed forward. Yelled. Pinned Monokuma to the ground with her boot.

 

Looked down.

 

Reached a hand up to her abdomen and pulled it away, sticky with bright pink, dribbling out of where fifteen spears jutted out of her torso.

 

Looked at Naegi. 

 

Smiled.

 

_ Don’t look so sad, Naegi. It’s okay if I die if you win this class trial. _

  
Fell to the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> :')  
> Fuck you Jack Peachyknife.


End file.
